Monday 1 October 2012

Monday Fables #1: Falling

Falling – Marina V

One night in Greece made me feel so complete and divine
Soft summer breeze floated in from the sea whispering you are mine
The wind told lies
'Till the morning light
Over and over I'm falling
Spinning in circles and begging for you
Over and over I'm falling
Slipping with no one to hold me
I'm falling down

Leaves falling down and my grey rainy town seems so dead
Don't know your name yet still I keep on wishing for yesterday
I'd give my life
For just one more night

Each night I dream of the breeze from the sea
And I still feel the touch of your hands
Can I escape from the grey autumn day
And return to the night we once had?

I don’t know what I was doing at that party; or what I was doing in that ridiculously tight outfit that made me look like a desperate stripper and feel like a package of salami. This is what I get for listening to Jamie, I grumble as I pull my skirt further down – again – and press my way through the crowd of drunk, overzealous college students ignoring the fact that they aren’t at home. Seriously, you cannot put your tongue there if you are in a public place; not that the perv watching them from the stairs seemed to mind. The whole place smelt like stale beer and sweat pouring from every miniscule empty space and the music pounding from the other room was vibrating through the walls of the house, shaking the foundation to the core. If this was what I had to look forward to next year I wasn’t sure I wanted it. Any of it. I just needed to find Jamie and we could get out of here before my parents figured out that we weren’t at the library studying. Oldest story in the book and they still bought it.
I squeezed my way through a mosh pit of dancers grinding to the pounding beat of the base, the music too loud to hear any sort of logical rhythm. If Jamie was anywhere, she was in the middle of a smelly, groping group of barely adults who were too drunk to figure out who or what they were touching. I ended up in the hallway leading to the washrooms – or I assumed that’s what the line was for considering it consumed the entire hallway – and I quickly found myself between a rock and a hard place. Or, more specifically, a wall and a college freshman.
“Hey baby, you are looking fine tonight.” I rolled my eyes but kept my back to the wall as he ran one hand down my side and kept the other holding his red solo cup. “I want to go somewhere else for a private party?” At least he asked.
“No thanks I’m good.” I slid along the wall hoping to get to the end before he did anything worse than breathe on me.
He grabbed hold of my hip and thrust his body against my back; I closed my eyes “oh come on baby, just one little dance huh?”
“I said-” I tried to turn but he held me down, his lips latching on to mine before I could finish my sentence. His tongue fought his way through and roughly stroked mine as I turned my head, cutting him off. He grabbed my neck and turned me back to him.
“Listen you little bitch”
“Really, Greg? Give it up, you’re not getting lucky tonight. Not that you could get it up anyways.” I glanced over my shoulder at the white knight invading the villain’s face, casual and calm like he did this every day. Oh god. But it worked. The evil frat boy released my neck with a flourish and stepped back, rolling his eyes.
“Whatever man, you can have her.” My eyes widened at the thought but when I looked at my savior he was smiling back at me, gentle and calm. I smiled back.
“And then what happened, mom?” I was brought out of my day dream by my eight year old, bright blue eyes and braids, leaning against the kitchen counter while I recounted tales of my childhood. Horror stories to keep my daughter from making my mistakes.
“Then I went home and didn’t do anything like that ever again.”
“Yeah right.” She grumbled.
As punishment for knowing me too well I threw a handful of flour in her hair. “Oh yeah, you think so?”
“Daddy told me about senior prom.”
“Oh he did not.”
“A motorcycle, mom?”
“It was the eighties.”
“Anyways,” does she get that eyeroll from me? “What happened to the guy who rescued you?”
“He did not rescue me he” she tilted her head impatiently “okay so he rescued me.” And I slipped back into wonderland “his name was Darren and he was a college freshman. After he ‘rescued me’ we went to the couches and after pushing some teenagers off, we sat down and talked.”
“Is that code of ‘made out’?” She scrunched her nose and I had to laugh.
“Usually but no, not this time. We just sat and talked; and danced. And I fell in love just a little bit.” I probably sighed but I was too far gone to realize “But after that night, I never saw him again.”
“You didn’t look for him?”
“I thought about it but I didn’t know his last name and I didn’t think it was worth it. Sometimes, saying goodbye is the right thing to do. And I never regret meeting him or never finding him.”
“But now you love dad, right?”
I smiled, brushing her bangs from her eyes. She needed a haircut. “Now I love your dad very much.”
She was silent for a moment so I resumed my task of baking fourteen thousand cookies for her school bake sale but I knew she had more questions. “Mom, what would you do if you met Darren again?”
I didn’t hesitate. “I would say hello, greet his lovely wife and then thank him…for saving me all those years ago.” I regretted a lot of the things I did in my youth but that was one mistake I would be okay with my daughter repeating.

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